Sanzo's Such a Scrooge
by Astral Writer
Summary: Christmas Fanfic; Au, Saiyuki meets Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol". Sanzo's the head CEO of an Airline and is an emotionally stunted p*ck. With the help of three ghosts can he be saved before he does something that he'll regret? Slight Shounen Ai/Yaoi; 39, 58, etc. Merry Christmas Everyone!
1. Chp1: I'm not Christian!

The old geezers had finally cleared the room. Meetings with the shareholders at the end of the year were always one of the more stressful matters to deal with as CEO of the company. The old bastards never had anything good to say and always expected more than was possible to achieve in only a year's time. And this last conference had been especially irking. They'd brought up the topic of changing the company's insignia multiple times and had talked about changing the paint job on the planes_ again_. How many times did he have to tell them that was the way his father had set things up and he didn't plan on changing them? Not now and not in the future…

Glen leaned back in his chair in the empty boardroom at the head of the long oval table. He raked his fingers through this blond hair and allowed himself to breath after two and a half hours of pretending he cared what these old men thought. It was his company and he was going to run it how he damn well wanted. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to kill the pounding headache he was having. He hated this time of year the most. So much goddamn work to do and everyone was getting time off for the holidays. Glen would rather give bonuses to the people that worked through the holidays then to the slackers.

"Well that was hard to sit through, wasn't it?"

Glen cracked an eyelid open. He'd at least _thought_ the room was empty. The dark brown hair and grey tailored suit told him who it was. He didn't have to open his eyes any further to know that it was Harris Choel, with his observant green eyes hidden behind square frames, wearing his oh-too-perky smile as usual. Glen closed his eye again and sighed. "I feel like they get more annoying every year."

"Ha ha. You've gotten better at handling them from the looks of it," Harris chuckled.

"I've just built up a tolerance to their bullshit, that's all," he said removing his hands from his face and resting them on his lap. "Good work on the presentation, by the way."

Harris was the head of the Human Relations department. He'd been preparing the presentations for the shareholders for three years now, at Glen's personal request, and this was the first time he'd presented it himself.

Harris's smile took on a warmer appearance. "Thanks for the compliment."

"Don't take it to heart. I want next years to be better," Glen said reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He drew one out and put in in his mouth before Harris could speak.

"Glen, you can't—!"

"Ahem?" he said looking up at Harris through half lidded eyes. "Who?"

Harris sighed, somehow managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "_Mr. Sanders_, you are not allowed to smoke in the building," he admonished.

Glen scoffed. "I'm the boss, so what's it matter." He dug around in his pocket for his lighter, but came back empty handed. He patted down the front of his coat, looking at little apprehensive. He finally reached into the pocket of his slacks and sighed inwardly when he fingers wrapped around the small chrome lighter. He pulled it out and flicked it open. After a few attempts at igniting it, he started to curse. "Damn, it needs more lighter fluid again."

"Why don't you just buy a new one? Isn't it cheaper?" Harris shuffled the folder and tablet he was holding from one hand to the other and leaned against the back of one of the chairs.

With no interest of seeming sentimental and revealing that the lighter had any personal value whatsoever, Glen huffed and said, "It was none of your business what I did with my money last I checked." Glen removed the cigarette, returned it to the pack and put the lighter and pack back in the inside pocket.

"No, I suppose it's not," Harris chuckled again, but this time sounding a little more formal. He stood there quietly for a moment, supporting himself on the chair before smiling back at his boss. "I hope this doesn't sound too presumptuous, but I was wondering if you had any plans tonight."

Glen, a little thrown by the question, manages to hide it completely. "Choel, I'm sure you're aware of the sexual harassment policies. And last I checked weren't you still involved with that freeloader living in your apartment?"

Harris smirked as he shook his head. "First off, Jordan owns the apartment, not me. I'd think you would remember that since you were there when I moved in. Second, _Mr. Sanders_, is yes, I'm aware of the policies. You know I didn't mean it like that." Glen gave an inward sigh of relief. "I just wanted to know if you would be interested in coming over for dinner, since its Christmas Eve. My cousin's coming later than expected so we have an extra seat, if you're willing?"

"No, I don't feel like spending the evening looking at your boyfriend's unemployed face, and besides that, I'm not Christian."

Harris smiled became strained. "That never stopped you from celebrating when we were kids."

"Well things have changed." Glen was getting tired of this conversation rather quickly and stood up ready to make a break for the door.

Harris looked like he was going to say something else, but he stopped himself. He was very much aware of what had changed. Glen had risen a lot of barriers since his father's death. Harris knew better then to press the subject any further.

"Well, I understand if you're not interested. All in all, the invitation still stands if you change your mind."

Glen snorted, '_Like that would happen._' "I'll see you on Thursday."

Glen walked out the door in three quick strides. He headed straight for the elevator, other employees giving him a wide berth. When the elevator opened at the top floor facing his office doors, the intern sitting at his secretary's desk bounced to his feet. Glen couldn't recall the kid's name. It was something weird that started with 'y-o', but he could never remember the rest. The kid had only been there for a few weeks and was expected to be gone by early February. Glen didn't care for his peppy attitude and the kid fawned over him way too much.

"Mr. Sanders, the secretary went to the restroom, but he said he'd be right back."

"Whatever." What did he care of his secretary's bodily needs? But, Glen reminded himself, he'd have to make it clear to the secretary that just because the intern was there, didn't mean the he could slack off during his hours. Glen went straight for his office door, not wanting to talk to anyone, hopefully for the rest of the night.

"Oh, and there's someone waiting for you in your office, Mr. Sanders," the kid said with a smile.

"What!? Who?" Glen barked, jerking his hand away from the door handle like it was a venomous snake.

Stuttering stupidly, the kid said, "H-he s-said-d his-s nam-me was-s K-Keighan. Sir, I kn-now how y-you hate v-vis-sitors, s-so I t-tried to turn h-him away. B-but he said he own-ns h-half the building-g. I-I had t-to l-let him in."

Glen considered leaving his belongings in his office for the night and just heading home for the evening. He really hated it when Keighan stalked him down at work. But the bastard knew where he lived; Glen would eventually find the man on his doorstep if he left now. It would be better to get this over with. He grudgingly reached out for the handle on the door. He turned to the intern briefly and ordered him to call his chauffer and have him waiting for him at the entrance in the next three minutes.

Keighan was leaning back in Glen's office chair bouncing a ball off one of the nearby walls, catching it, and repeating the action. His dark shaggy hair framed his face and the glare of his glasses concealed his expression. The jacket of his dark blue suit was unbuttoned and he looked perfectly comfortable, given the uninterested smile on his face. He looked up when the door opened and smiled at Glen. "I was wondering if you were going to try and runaway again. I don't mind making house calls."

"You'd be the last person I'd want to see making a house call even if you were a doctor."

The man at the desk laughed as he sat up. "You never fail to amuse, Glen. It's been awhile. You haven't been back to the house in ages," Keighan rested his elbows on the desk and his chin in his palms.

'_And I don't plan to._' "Why are you here Keighan?" Glen snapped as he made his way closer to the desk. He needed to get his cellphone from the top left hand drawer and his trench on the coatrack near the door and he could be on his way.

"You know why I'm here, Glen." Keighan's eyes followed Glen as he approached the desk.

"You want to invite me to that stupid Christmas party of yours. How many times do I have to say that I'm not Christian?" Close enough now, he reached around the desk, keeping his distance from the man in his chair and opened the drawer. His cellphone wasn't sitting on top of the folders where he'd left it. He turned to look incredulously at Keighan, but the man had moved from the chair and was now sitting with his ass on Glen's desk. Shit, he was going to have to remember to get the intern to clean that too now. Keighan's entire being was like some sick germ, down to the smell of his expensive cologne.

"Glen, Glen, Glen. It's not just my 'stupid Christmas party'. It's Kamron's too." Glen froze for a moment at the mention of his father's name. He _hated_ Keighan for bringing his father up. That was only one of the many reasons that he hated associating with him.

Glen regained his composure before shooting Keighan a dirty look. "Where's my phone?" he asked coldly.

Keighan's smile looked almost sad—Almost, that sadistic bastard—as he held up Glen's smart phone. "Are you coming tonight?"

Glen snatched it from the man's hands before he could pull it away and out of his reach. "No, I've got plans." He said holding his phone tightly and standing before walked briskly to the other side of the office to grab his coat.

"Oh, really?" Keighan said in off handed amusement. "With who?"

"No one," Glen said as he opened the door and half slammed it behind him. He managed to make it into the elevator before he had to say anything more to anyone else. He did however hear the intern shout his merry goodbyes before the doors closed.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Sanders! Oh, and have a Merry Christmas!—" Apparently the intern hadn't gotten the memo. Glen didn't celebrate Christmas.

Downstairs his car was waiting for him like it was supposed to. At least something was going right. The security guards at the front desk rushed to their feet. "Good evening, Mr. Sanders."

Glen ignored them. He just wanted to get home, away from whining shareholders, insistent department heads, busybody assholes, and tiresome employees. He could see the rain beating against the glass outside and groaned internally. He hated the rain. And it was bound to be freezing outside. Even though it had become substantially colder as of late, it had yet to snow.

The driver saw Glen coming and raced out of the car and around the side to open the door for him. Glen slid into the car along the leather seat. The smell of the leather polish was horrible and Glen barked at the driver to turn on the vents. The driver busied himself with the controls for a moment before putting the car in drive and pulling out into traffic. It was a couple of hours after the lunch rush and few hours before most businesses closed for the evening and everyone started to rush home, so the streets were relatively easy to navigate. It was a normal occurrence for Glen to leave work early after a meeting like today's and his driver was just happy that after all this, he would get to start his Christmas vacation early.

* * *

The car ride back to his apartment was quiet enough that it somewhat lessened Glen's irritated mood, but was not long enough for him to get comfortable. When they pulled up to the curb in front of his building, the doorman walked over and opened the car door for him.

"Thanks Gate," Glen said handing the doorman a tip. Gate was a big man that did his job well and Glen always appreciated that the man didn't say much. Gate tipped his hat to him and closed the door to the car before moving quickly, despite his size, over to hold the front door open for him. Glen stepped into the lobby, whipping his feet dry on the large mat inside the door.

The lobby was quiet. The outside world muted the moment the doors closed. The lights in the lobby had a soft glow to them that didn't hurt one's eyes to stare at. The building was old, but had been renovated recently so everything looked polished, the vanished wood of the front desk and the brass mailboxes across from it. Hanz, the man that worked the front desk—a skinny guy that made a habit of slicking back his fair hair—greeted Glen in his rather obnoxious Southern drawl. Glen ignored him. Before heading up to the elevator, Glen swung by his mailbox. He shuffled around in his pocket for his keys when his phone went off.

He groaned. Talking to someone was the last thing Glen wanted to do. If it was something truly important, he reasoned, they could leave it on his voicemail or call his secretary. The intern would probably be happy to take the message.

The phone rang three more times before Glen managed to grab it and pulled it out of his pocket. His finger pressed the mute button before his eyes even finished reading the name of the caller. He moved to return the phone to his pocket and continue the search for his keys, when a thought made him pause.

He looked back at his phone at the name listed. _Shaun Race?_ Shaun Race was an old business friend of his. Owned a sister company. They'd made many business arrangements together that had made their companies both very successful. But Shaun Race was dead. He had been for two and a half years, died from alcohol poisoning. Glen had attended the funeral. _And_ Glen had removed his contact a long time ago. At least, he'd thought he had.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he pressed talk and put the phone to his ear, not sure what he expected to hear. The line was dead. He looked down at his phone stubbornly, turned it off and shoved it back into his pocket, his hand finally brushing up against his misplaced keys. He opened the mailbox, grabbed the small pile of envelopes and walked over to the elevator.

Once inside his apartment, he didn't bother removing his shoes, instead shrugging off his trench and tossing it over the back of a chair as he walked through the kitchen. Being home offered some comfort that he was truly alone. The only one that came and went from this sanctuary was him and it had been that way for a very long time.

He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his cigarettes and lighter as he circled the small island in the center of his kitchen. He put a cig between his lips before he opened the frigerator, wondering halfheartedly if he'd saved any of the leftovers from the takeout the night before. The fridge was empty save a few bottles of beer and a container of very expired creamer. He needed to get rid of that, he thought to himself.

He closed the fridge and leaned his back against the door as he tried to light his cigarette again with the useless lighter. He was reminded _again_ that he had to buy new lighter fluid for it. His thoughts turned back to his conversation with Harris earlier in the boardroom. It was far more reasonable to just buy another lighter. Why did he cling to his one so much? He looked down at the small chrome lighter in his hand; his name that was engraved along the bottom had started to fade. He grumbled as he tossed it towards the island. The lighter went farther than expected and slid across the surface, flying off the other side and clattering to the floor.

Before Glen knew what he was doing he'd ran after it, picked it up, looking it over to make sure it wasn't dented or damaged. A pause as he thought over what he'd just done, he gave an exasperated sigh as he tucked the lighter into his trouser pocket. He couldn't rationally explain his favoritism over the lighter. It didn't make sense to covet it as much as he did, especially since the one that gave it to him was no longer a part of his life.

He walked back over to the stove and turned on the propane burner. After a few clicks, the fire started. He held the cigarette out over the flames until it lit and put the stick between his lips as he turned off the stove. The kitchen, like most of the apartment was immaculate. The only appliance used on a regular basis was the microwave and occasionally the espresso maker. Glen didn't make his own coffee often enough. When he came home it was usually to sleep, bath, and eat without interruption, a small gift of personal space. The rooms were filled with a peaceful quiet disturbed only by the soft drumming of the rain on the windows. Glen started to head for the living room with the plan of making himself comfortable in his chair, maybe ordering some more Chinese takeout.

A cold ring cut through the silence and Glen froze where he stood. He looked over his shoulder as the ring pierced again the silence which had become rigid. His eyes turned to his coat flung over the chair. It rang again… Glen paced back to his trench, reached into the familiar pocket and pulled out his phone as it rang again, vibrating in his hands. Shaun Race's name flashed on the screen.

"What the Hell!?" Glen cursed, looking down at the phone. It rang again before he stabbed the talk button and put the phone to his ear.

"Whoever the fuck you are, stop calling me!" he barked into the receiver. But all he got was the dead signal. '_Shit!_'

About ready to throw his phone to the floor, the silence of his apartment was interrupted again. Glen looked at his phone instinctively, but the screen didn't show any sign that he was getting an incoming call. It took a moment to register that it was the intercom near the door. He stormed over to the intercom and jammed his finger again the buttons. "What is it, Hanz?"

There was no response. '_Shit, is everything just malfunctioning today?_' Glen growled to himself. He started back to the living room. He threw himself into his armchair and grumbled a few choice words around his cigarette that he'd be giving to the maintenance guy and the person at the electronic store tomorrow.

Suddenly a toll rang—a toll that had never been heard in his apartment—and Glen nearly jumped out of his chair at the sound of it. As it was, his hands scrambled for the drawer of the end table next to his chair. His fingers wrapped around the barrel of the small S&W M36 as he stood up. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it in the ashtray on the table. He'd never, in all his time living in the apartment, heard anyone use his doorbell. He faced the door, safety off, and ready to fire.

For the few moments that nothing happened a vein in Glen's head throbbed, now angry at himself for over reacting. He sighed bitterly and started to lower the gun. But he stopped. The temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. Glen could see his own breath as it left his lips. His first thoughts were that the thermostat must be funkin' broken as well, but a cold chill seemed to wrap around him slow and slinking, like a snake coiling around his ankles and climbing his body.

"It's just in my head," Glen barked, and as proof of defiance, when he felt whatever it was as it covered his side, pushing cold through the material of his jacket, vest, his clothes, he stubbornly refused to remove his hand from the gun held out in front of him to comfort the freaky feeling that was making his hairs prickle and his skin goose bump.

When the feeling reached his neck and crept higher, the cold licking at his ears, he barely managed to control himself from shuddering as the chill descended his spine. His shoulder blades clenched and his neck twisted reflexively. Whatever the fuck this feeling was, it seemed content when it had reached his head. Now his whole body felt stiff and heavy. The cold chill all over his skin made it impossible for him to relax and his heart beat quickly in his chest. Frustration seemed to be the only burning sensation Glen could feel. His eyes that had taken to looking over himself trying to find the source of all this, were brought back up to the door just as the doorbell rang again.

"Who the fuck is there!" Glen shouted, finding it hard to even get his tongue to cooperate. There wasn't a response back and Glen was more than irritated with all this bullshit. "You better answer or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" Glen flinched; he hadn't really been expecting a response even though he'd asked for it. He'd secretly hoped that no one was there and he could pass this all off as some horrible dream.

The door didn't open, but Glen's guest entered the apartment anyways, his form slowly creeping in through the reinforced door. If the room had been considered cold before, it was like the tundra now. Glen could barely keep himself from shivering. Whoever they were, they had good taste. They were wearing an _Alexander Amosu_ suit, black with pinstripes, their dark hair was slicked and combed back. When their black leather Italian shoes were planted firmly on this side of the door, he stopped a moment to readjust his gold cufflinks and glance down at the Rolex watch on his wrist.

"You're early Glen. I was under the impression you were the type of guy that liked to burn the midnight oil."

The voice was familiar and Glen only slowly lowered the gun a few notches, but not all the way—he reminded himself—he wasn't stupid. He craned his neck, trying to see the apparition's face. "Who…?"

"It's been awhile Glen," the cocky smile of Shaun Race looked up at him. Or, tried too. The jaw bone that was visible thought parched and peeling skin was cracked and couldn't hold its shape very well. The face was like dry paper that was yellowed and curling back at the places it was ripped. There were even parts of his face that looked like they may have been nibbled on by some kind of rodent. Glen blanched and might not have recognized him at all if not for his eyes. The way the specter looked at Glen reminded him of several years back when they'd been working enthusiastically—well, Shaun had—on a corporate project.

But, this was impossible. Shaun was dead. He'd been dead for a while. His company had a new CEO that was screwing around. Glen righted himself and glared at the specter in front of him. "Halloween was two months ago," he growled. "Get the fuck out of my apartment. I don't believe in ghosts." Glen was going to be stubborn about this. He'd never been scared of ghost stories and the like. Never. And he wasn't ready to start letting his dead work associate walk all over him now.

But Shaun, or the specter that took his form, laughed. "Oh God, Glen, you haven't changed at all."

Glen wasn't going to let this guy knock the wind from his sails that easily. "Who the Hell do you think you are?"

"Stop messing around Glen. I know you recognize me. I can see it in your eyes," Shaun said give him a smile and started towards him.

Glen tried to raise the gun again, but his arms felt like they were being weighed down. '_Shit!_' "Shaun Race is dead. I went to his funeral. I saw his corpse in the casket!"

"I know you did," the specter said with a sad looking smile. "I saw you there. And I wanted to thank for that too. You were one of the few people there that actually seemed upset that I was gone."

Glen stopped struggling for a moment. He remembered the funeral well. There were lots of shareholders there, but he didn't remember seeing any of Shaun's relatives. There was no wife or kids, no lover. Shaun had been an easy going social guy years before his death, but there weren't any friends at the funeral either. Glen looked at the ghost's face, saw the sad look in his eyes, and looked away. "Well what do you want with me? If you're trying to haunt me it won't work."

The specter smirked. "No Glen," he said as he circled around. "I'm not here to torture you." The specter's voice suddenly took on a serious tone. "I'm trying to help you."

"With what!?" Glen barked. His voice was starting to sound hoarse. It was hard to force himself to talk when, whatever this weight was, was putting so much pressure on him to keep him from moving.

"You've got a problem, Glen, and this is sort of like your intervention. I want to help you before you die like I did—."

"From what? Alcohol poisoning?!" Glen scoffed.

"No." Glen stopped himself from flinching, the harsh tone so close to his ear. "From dying while drinking_ alone_ in your office on a Friday night. From becoming obsessed with your work and forgetting what's going on around you. From dying and having no one but stuck up old bustards at your funeral, having no one to morn your death, Glen! The afterlife isn't all it's cracked up to be, you can take my word on it. When you die with no one there for you, you become stuck. You can't move on…" He paused as he reeled himself back and forced himself to calm down. Glen was glad. The guy had been yelling in his face and his breath smelt like a graveyard.

The specter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked back at Glen with another sad smile. "I wanted to help you out because you were the most anti-social prick I knew and that was before Kamron's death."—Glen tensed at the name—"Now you're just unbearable." The last part he said in a wispy sad tone. Glen tried to struggle against the hold that this ghost had over him, but he couldn't move. The specter watched him then walked off and, a few seconds later, came back with something. He walked around Glen and smiled at him. "You were a good guy Glen. I'm going to try and save you." And with that he pushed Glen back—

—back into a chair that he fell into rather ungracefully. "Take a load off Glen. I got a special message I was asked to give you."

Glen's body was still heavy and he couldn't move well. All he could manage was to look up at the specter. Shaun looked like he was having fun again.

"Now Glen, the universe wants to help with your…" He waved his hand in the air in front of him like he was looking for the word, "intervention and since this is something of a holy night, they've got the power to step in. You are going to get some one-on-one conference time with three ghosts, not unlike myself, and—."

"Wait! The fucking Scrooge story!? What the Hell!? I'm nothing like that stingy bastard. My employees are paid well. The ones that asked for it got their vacation time. I donate money to fucking charities all the time. I donated 40 grand to some program in Africa two weeks ago, Damnit!"

The specter laughed again at Glen's outrage. "What can I say, the universe doesn't like to mess with the classics, and Charles Dickens was a classic. Besides, I already told you what your problem was."

"No, no you fucking didn't!" Glen yelled, really struggling against his bonds.

"Calm down Glen, or you'll give yourself an aneurysm. You don't remember? I told you, you were an anti-social prick. We're hoping to change that before the night is through. So, I'm here to tell you that the first ghost will be here at—"

"At what, fucking midnight?"

"Ah, nah. Some of these ghosts have plans afterwards and since you're here so early, they want to get it over with as soon as possible."

"Well if I'm such a fucking inconvenience, then you can just leave me here. I think I got the message already anyway, with your fucked up parlor tricks."

The specter tossed his head back and laughed. He laughed good and hard. "God, I got to thank you Glen. I haven't laughed this hard in years. And I'm sorry that you have to go through this, I really am, but…" The ghost started to move towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going!?" Glen demanded, still weighed down to the chair.

"I've got to go. I could only stay as long as I had the message to deliver. Now that you're warned, I have to leave."

"I said wait!" Glen growled again. Shaun's ghost was really leaving? "Where are you going?"

The specter sighed remorsefully. "Back to wandering between plains, I guess. I wish you luck Glen. I hope we don't run into each other in the afterlife. If I don't see you in a couple of decades, I'll know that you didn't screw this up." The specter started to step through the door.

"Wait Shaun, Damn you!"

"Bye Glen." And the specter was gone, a waving hand the last thing pulled through.

The cold that held Glen's body down to the chair started to uncoil itself and Glen's fingers finally were able to relinquish their hold on the gun and it dropped to the floor with a dull thud. The moment Glen could move his body again freely, he pushed out of the chair knocking it over and ran towards the front door. He threw it open but all that was there was the flashy form of his neighbor in her denim power suit, holding her keys to her door and looking at him like he was going to attack her.

Glen frowned. Shaun was gone. He threw the woman a cold look before retreating into his apartment and closing the door harshly. He stormed back into the room seeing the chair from his dining room and the gun lying on the floor. Glen stooped down to pick up the weapon and walked back to the living room to put it away. He saw his smart phone on the table next to a lamp and the ashtray. The cigarette had burnt itself down to the filter and gone out. He must have tossed it there in his struggle to get the gun out.

He turned around and fell back into the chair grumbling. This was shit and he wasn't going to believe any of it was real, no matter how _real_ Shaun had seemed. It was impossible to see the dead and if talking to the dead was so easy, why hadn't Kamron come to tell him all this shit himself. He would have preferred talking to his father over his old dead work associate any day.

Why the Hell did he have to go through this any way. He wasn't a bad guy. Yeah, he could admit he wasn't a _great _guy or even a _nice _guy, but he wasn't a bad one either. Why did he have to get the fucked up Christmas Carol haunting? And the ghosts… Where they—No, they couldn't be real. God dammit, he already said he didn't believe in ghosts.

Glen stood up, grabbing his phone. He wasn't going to stick around here all night waiting for the fuckers. He walked back into the kitchen and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair where he'd left it. He walked around the chair abandoned in the foyer and left without looking back. '_Fucking ghosts…_'

Down stairs he stormed out of the lobby, Hanz was looking after him curiously. It wasn't really like Mr. Sanders to leave so soon after returning home and he wasn't the type to go out late either. Glen ignored the weird look he was getting from him. He walked outside and turned to Gate who didn't offer anything out of the ordinary, only nodded, stepped out into the lightly pouring rain and hailed a cab for him. Glen was really, for lack of a better word, glad that Gate didn't bother with him or his business.

When the car pulled up, Gate opened the door for Glen and he got in. Glen didn't like taxis very much, but his driver had already been let off for the night and his car would take too long to get from the car garage under the building.

"Where to, sir?" The driver looked over the back of the front seat, smiling. The front of the cab had tinsel everywhere and the back window had colorful Christmas lights in it.

'_Shit, I just can't get away from any of this crap, can I?_' Glen leaned back on the upholstery and said the first place that popped into his mind "Take me to the _Charcoal Filter_ Club on West Ave."

"Got it," the driver turned around in his seat and within moments the taxis was pulling away from the curb.

Glen muttered to himself, "I need a stiff drink after all this bullshit."

* * *

**A/N**:

Hello readers! And Merry Christmas! This is my holiday present to the world. I have a special event that I'm holding for the release of my fourth and Holiday themed story. As you can tell it's an AU and all the character's names have been changed to fit the setting. I'm holding two contests of sorts. Now anyone can enter either (or both of these) except TheInkDragonRosett, coz she helped me come up with the stuff and already knows that answers and shit.

**Contest 1**: Names have been changed. Every character given a name, with few exceptions, are characters from the original Saiyuki manga and Saiyuki reload. (The exceptions being that those who aren't fully named might still be cannon characters). The person that guesses the most people correctly (or all, but I may be asking for too much) is the winner. The characters are all from Saiyuki and Saiyuki Reload, possibly Saiyuki Reload Burial, but that's it. shouldn't be any from Saiyuki Gaiden, Ibun or Saiyuki Reloaded Blast or Gunlock (But I might not be able to help myself...). And these are all Manga friendly characters so they will have appeared in the manga. To enter, leave a review with each real Saiyuki Character's name next to their's given (or part if the name is not given) in the Fanfic. It is best not to post your answer until the end of the story, though just sayin'. We've met a few of my cast, but we're not done yet. I'll give little hints at the ends of the chapters. Today's Hint: We've heard of Nine characters from Saiyuki thus far. Good luck!

**Contest 2**: Let's see if you guys know your classical literature. I mentioned cast, right? Match up the characters with their intended role from the original Christmas Carol story. Here are the Roles: Scrooge, Bob Cratchit, Fred, Jacob Marley, The Ghost of Christmas Past, Fan, Fezziwig, Belle, The Ghost of Christmas present, Mrs. Cratchit, Peter Cratchit, Tiny Tim, Martha Cratchit, _and _The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Not all of my cast have original roles, so you have to pay close attention. List as many as you can (or all, but again that might be too much) in the same style are the previous contest; role next to their Saiyuki character's name. Also, I would wait until the end of the story to post answers to this one too.

**Over all rules**. You can enter both of these contests, but if you win both (it's possible) you must demand two prizes. Oh, prizes! Did I mention there were prizes? Winner or either contest gets a prize. I will write or illustrate a Saiyuki themed fanfic or fanart for the winner. The winner need only supply me with who's in it and the theme-ish thing. Ex: Neko ears, Christmas costumes, slumber party, wardrobe switch, etc. (Warning, if you want something Smutty, it will take longer to get it to you-coz I'm creative, but my brain takes awhile to do smutt. The Fanart would be posted on my Deviantart account, Username: WriterPenwin). All submissions must be made by Jan 31th 2013 or I might not be able to accept you… (The date was moved back because I was busier this season then I thought I would be. You know, Christmas and all...heh heh...)

Please leave reviews! I like it when people talk about my stuff to me… Do you like it? Do you hate it? Let me know it I made them all sound appropriate? Please Review! (Oh, does anyone know what Charcoal Filter is a reference too? Kudos to you!)


	2. Chp2: Finding Something

Glen leaned his whole body on the bar. The _Charcoal Filter _was a warm and mellow joint. It was a private club that required guests to have a membership if they wanted to enter. It was classy. All the wood was a dark stain and polish. The lights were dim and the soft jazz music completed the ambience. Everything was well managed from the pool tables in the back to their high-class selection of quality liquor. Most of the back booths were empty given that it was a holiday and the time of night, Glen thought as he looked down at his watch, but that was all the better given his current mindset.

He wasn't drowning himself in the drink. He was simply nursing his glass at a slow leisurely pace. He wasn't sure how long he planned to stay, but the atmosphere suited him for the moment. The more he drank, the more he humored the idea that his encounter with Shaun was just a hallucination. He'd been working hard lately preparing for the board meeting and just before it happened he'd been reflecting over his past. And it was a convenient plot to recycle since it was the holiday season. His subconscious could have been suggesting something since he'd turned down two invitations that evening. Or…or maybe he was looking for some reason to try and get back in contact with—…

Glen's ears started ringing with a strange melody; soft, but louder than the jazz music coming from the speakers located under the bar. It was muted, but Glen could catch the electronic tone in it.

He sat up and glanced around, looking for the source. He'd had his fill of creepy shit for the night. When he moved back, the melody grew louder and he could now place the familiar tune. It was the eerie chorus of _Carol of the Bells_. He realized, as bile rose in his throat, that the melody was coming from somewhere on his person and he patted down the front of his dark trench coat until he found the source.

He pulled out the accursed smart phone from his pocket. He vaguely remembered turning it off earlier in the lobby before he'd gone up to his room. He looked at the glowing screen. A reminder was going off for some event that Glen couldn't recall programing into it. But he was angry because he didn't remember buying this ringtone. He couldn't think of what had possessed him to. He then scoffed at himself for his choice of words. '_Hn, possess…_'

"Sir?"

Glen flinched and his eyes shot up towards the voice. The young man behind the counter gave him a 'customer-service' smile. "Could you please put your phone on silent while you're in here?"

'_It's just the fucking bartender_," Glen told himself. The man smiled at him once more before walking back down the bar and returning to cleaning some glasses he was stacking into a pyramid.

Glen thought how it would only take one good kick against the bar to send those glasses tumbling. He turned his attention back to his phone he still held in his hand, tighter then was necessary. '_There's no reason for me to be this fucking _anxious,' he prompted himself as he put the phone on mute. He placed it on the bar facedown next to his drink. He picked it up and took a swig of, throwing his head back with the motion.

"Handsome evening, isn't it?"

Glen's closed eyes snapped open and his grip went slack, and for a moment he thought he was going to lose the glass. He caught it before any of the remaining beverage could spill and turned around on his stool.

A woman approached him wearing a cocky, yet knowing smile. Glen repressed an irritated sigh. He knew this particular smile better then he would have liked. The woman was wearing a long red dress that should have seemed festive but just appeared slutty on her. It barely held her bust in and the slit on the side of her dress started at her pelvis and ran all the way down. That dress wasn't meant for a woman her age.

Her long black hair that was dotted with a few silver strands was pulled back into a high ponytail with a golden comb pinning it back. She walked up to the bar swinging her hips like she was trying to seduce something and slid onto the stool next to him, crossing her legs. She leaned forward on the surface, one hand supporting her narrow chin, and she smiled up at him through her eyelashes. "Hello there, hun."

"What are you doing here, you old hag?" Glen figured he couldn't catch a break today. If it wasn't a shriveled up ghost, it was his shriveled up aunt. It had been a few years since he'd seen her, but she hadn't changed in the slightest. He figured Botox could do anything nowadays.

She sat up and reached her arm out, tapping the counter with long red manicured nails. The young bartender working the bar ran over and started making her a drink without even taking an order first. Glen wasn't aware the woman had a membership, let alone that she was a regular.

As the young man worked, she turned back to Glen still wearing her coy smile. Her long earrings jingled when her head turned. "I had to come looking for you, sweetie."

The bartender put the drink on a coaster and slid it the short distance over the surface of the bar to her. She caught it and winked at him. A light blush dusted over the man's cheeks and he smiled back before going back to what he'd been doing earlier.

Glen rolled his eyes at the exchange. The woman was practically a prowling cougar. She was what? In her 50s? 60s possibly? She was married for gods' sake. He took a swig of his remaining drink and put it down again.

Looking back at her, she was staring back at him while stirring her drink absentmindedly. Glen scoffed. "Did Keighan send you here to drag me to that party?"

Her smile reached up and touched her eyes. "No, hun. He didn't. I'm here just for you."

"Well you can just leave," Glen said, trying to stay calm. "I'm not in the mood to humor you or anyone else right now."

The woman didn't seem put-off by this. She just sat up and sipped at her drink, her lipstick leaving a large red smudge on her glass. She seemed to be dressed like she was going somewhere and Glen wondered if she really wasn't here to drag him back to that house. What? Was Jerry outside sitting in the car waiting for them or something?

Then she started humming and the noise caught Glen's attention. "I just wanted to have a little chat with you, hun. You seem like you could use some advice."

"Well I'd rather you left me alone."

She simply continued to sip at the liquor in her glass and hum. Her eyes seemed to run over the surface of the bar and she suddenly reached out with a smile and picked Glen's smart phone.

"Here you go, hun." She took his hand and placed the phone in it, wrapping his fingers around the device snuggly. "You're going to want to keep this on you," she said as she reached out for her glass and took another sip, still humming.

"What?" Glen said looking down at his phone. And it suddenly hit him. The melody she'd been humming was Carol of the Bells. '_Shit!_'

* * *

Before Glen could bat an eye, the room around him was pulled away and wind rushed past by his ears so fast they popped. His feet felt like they were being dragged across slick ice, he couldn't catch any friction or grab onto anything to slow himself down. There was no point looking around. He couldn't see anything. There was nothing, not even a vortex of colors or smeared shapes. He couldn't struggle either. His body was as heavy as it'd been during his interaction with Shaun. He was forced to wait until it stopped. And if there was one thing that Glen hated above all, it was being forced to do anything whether it was against his will or not. He gnashed his teeth. This was obviously against.

When his feet stopped sliding, there was a sudden jerk that immediately followed, like someone had slammed on the breaks. Glen's body came to an abrupt halt, jarring him, and he almost lost his balance. And if the stop hadn't been disorienting enough, his vision was suddenly flooded with light as he stumbled forward. It wasn't as blinding as strobe lights, but it might as well have been. It was so much brighter than the dim lit room he'd been sitting in just a moment ago.

Glen rubbed at his eyes and blinked them until they adapted well enough. He was outside, that was for sure. It was even colder than it had been earlier and brighter too; far too bright for 6 o'clock at night. The sky was overcast and it was snowing lightly. The gutters were overflowing with slush that hadn't been there earlier either. He was on an unfamiliar street, standing in front of a grey faced building, three—four stories tall with a high wrought iron fence surrounding the compound. He didn't recognize it off the top of his head as he glanced down the street, but the first thing he was determined to do was to get his bearings. He needed to figure out where he was before he was going to let himself panic.

Not even a quarter of a block down the street was a traffic intersection, but he couldn't make out the street names. There was gold tinsel and white Christmas lights wrapped around the wire hanging over the street and decorating the traffic signals. There were Christmas decorations all up and down the streets, stretching as far as Glen could see, accompanied by the distant sound of Christmas songs being played on some kind of speaker.

Glen brought his attention back to the glorified traffic signals in the intersection. He recalled that the city council had banned decorating the signals several years ago. It had caused numerous accidents.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Glen started and looked over his shoulder. She was standing next to him looking quite proud of herself.

"What?" Glen's voice sounded slightly dazed. He was still a little too shaken up to bring it back to his usual harsh tone.

"The decorations," she specified. "Aren't they just breath taking?"

Glen scoffed. "More like hazardous. Didn't they ban hanging that tinsel years—"

"Yes," she said cutting him off and sounding slightly exasperated. "Seventeen years ago. And really, it was too bad I think. But this is five years before that. You do remember where we are, don't you Glen?"

Glen looked back at the building in front of them. After taking a second look, it did seem familiar, but… '_Seventeen—Five? Twenty-two years?_' He-he knew where they were, but—But!

Glen turned back to the woman. She—she coundn't be…? "You're not Con—"

"No, hun," she said throwing him another smile. "I'm not you exquisite 'Aunt Connie'. I'm just borrowing her gorgeous form for the evening to make this all a little more comfortable for you." She winked at him and Glen felt like retching.

With that response, Glen had to wonder if she really wasn't his vain aunt after all. She certainly sounded like her. "Then you're—"

"Yes," she cut him off again.

'_Shit, am I ever going to be allowed to finish a God damn sentence?_'

"You can think of me as the ghost of Christmas Past. Welcome to the 90's, Sweetie," she said in a sing-song voice, looking up at the sky and breathing in the air deeply through her nose. She turned back to Glen, still gracing him with her disgusting smiling. "So, Glen sweetie, do you remember this place or not?"

"Yes, I remember this God forsaken place. This was the orphanage I lived in for the first part of my damn life. 'River-something-Orphanage' I'm pretty sure."

The ghost chuckled and walked over to some shrubs that were crawling up the fence. She pushed some aside and revealed the sign in front of the building. "I think you mean 'River Side Orphanage', hun, but points for trying."

"What's it matter what the God damn name was? Why you bring me here?" he demanded.

"Well when you're trying to solve any problem, it's best to look back and see where everything started going wrong, no?" she said facing the building, with her hands on her hips. Without looking she added, as an afterthought, "Oh, and don't even think about making a break for it. If you ditch me, you're just going to be wandering around this time period as a bodiless soul for the rest of eternity."

Glen glanced back at her. He had just been humoring the thought of running off and looking for a way home, but her words crushed any intention of following through with that plan. Instead, he decided to carry on with the conversation.

"What problem?"

"The problem you have with the world, sweetie," she eyed him over her shoulder. "Now look." She pointed toward the front of the building. "The show's about to start."

Glen's eyes followed the gesture. The front door was pushed open slowly with a soft creak. A small blond head poked out. A quick glance back over its shoulder into the building and the child slipped out the door leaving it to close behind him. He was tiny. No bigger than three or four years old and the clothes he was wearing looked like hand-me-downs that were too big for him. He was practically swimming in his pants, a belt being the only thing holding them up.

The child descended the front steps slowly, hopping down them one at a time. When he got to the gate, he looked back one more time at the cold stone faced building. He paused for just that moment before pushing against the iron gate. It opened, sounding like it hadn't been oiled properly since it'd been installed.

The child stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked up and down the street, not unlike Glen had earlier. He completely ignored Glen and the ghost like they weren't even there. Glen suspected that he couldn't see them. He remembered that that was how things worked in the original story. The child eventually turned right and started walking up the street like it was the most practical thing to do.

"Isn't he cute?" the ghost said as she looked after him, beaming like a proud parent. "So determined. He really looks like he knows what he's doing,"

"He has no fucking idea what he's doing," Glen snapped. He'd been that child. He knew he hadn't had any idea what he was doing. He hadn't thought five steps farther then the front gate. He'd just known that he'd wanted to get away. He'd wanted to _leave_. The people that worked around him were shallow and superficial. They didn't really pay attention or care about the children they worked with and Glen had decided when he was living there that he would have to find his own family. He'd set out with only that thought in his mind: find a better place to call home.

Glen started after the smaller version of himself as he walked up the street. The Ghost was not far behind. The child made his way, turning at random corners and stopping only when he had to wait at a crosswalk for the light to change.

"Well isn't he a smart little cookie," said the ghost as the three of them waited for a red light to turn to green. Glen suppressed any kind of acknowledgment he'd be willing to give for the strange compliments. "He makes running away look so effortless," she tacked on at the end.

Glen clenched his teeth. "That because it was effortless," he said with a tone of bitterness. "No one was watching. It was easy to just get up and walk away. The morons didn't even notice a thing." The light finally decided to change.

"You sound a little resentful, sweetie," she remarked as the three of them started into the intersection.

"Well I am. I mean—" he gestured to a group of people as they walked passed them. The farther north they went, the more crowded the streets became. "Look at all these people. No one's noticed this little kid walking down the street—Alone!"

"Is that what you were thinking when they walked past you?"

"Tch. I wanted to know why no one noticed me. Why wasn't someone looking for me?"

The ghost giggled. "It's hard to look for something that you don't know exists," the ghost stated plainly.

Glen's stride hesitated and the ghost walked passed him, still tailing the child. He hadn't expected her to respond like that. Angry, Glen stepped forward, ready to retort.

At the same time a large car zoomed past suddenly, hitting a big dip in the road along the edge. Glen flinched instinctively, but the child in front of them didn't have the same instinct yet. Glen watched as the cold, dirty slush and runoff was splashed three feet into the air and the wall of water seemed to move in slow motion as it came down on the child.

The younger him stood there for a moment, stunned enough to halt any kind of reaction. He looked down at his wet arm. The jacket he was wearing clung to it like it had been plastered there. Water ran off his arm and dripped off the tips of his fingers. They were starting to shiver as the cold and water seeped through his clothes. Tears welled up in the corners of the child's eyes, but at the same time a glare appeared on his face as he looked down at his wet arm. He looked at the rest of his wet clothing with a bitter expression. He stamped his foot in the puddle that had formed around him on the sidewalk.

It may have looked to anyone like the younger version of himself was pouting or throwing a simple child's tantrum, but Glen had memories of what was going through the child's head , emotions just beneath the surface. He'd been angry. Angry that he was wet, mad at the car for not watching where it was going, and furious with the world for everything else. The child looked up as a pair of teenage girls in plaid skirts walked around him, purposefully avoiding catching his eye.

Glen would have yelled at them, cursed them out… If he thought that it would do any good. But the child didn't say anything. Instead he looked around helplessly as his small body shivered; a cold wind caught him and tousled his damp hair. It was obvious to the child that he had limited options. He eventually decided to walk over to an alley. It was cold and standing where the wind could cut through him wasn't smart. The child was stubbornly determined not to go back, not yet. Glen remembered how powerfully he'd refused to give up. If he'd have gone back he knew he would simply be punished with nothing to show for his endeavor.

The cold was still getting to him though, and the younger him slid down the cement wall and sat there bringing his legs up closer to his chest trying to preserve heat. _"Am I going to die like this…?"_ he whispered to himself.

Glen felt strangely helpless standing there. He watched as the child finally broke down a little and let his tears go. He let them roll freely down his cheeks and allowed himself to cry just a little. His soft sobs were too quiet to be heard over the roar of cars passing by. The boy muted it more by burring his face in his arms atop his knees. His shoulders were trembling from the cold and the force of his silenced sobs. Glen looked at the ghost. She looked down on the child with a true look of pity on her made up face.

"Aren't you going to do something?" he snapped. He didn't like seeing this. It was so fucking infuriating to just stand there and do nothing. The kid could get hypothermia sitting there. At the same time Glen was uncomfortable with the ghost watching his past with him. This was his history, his personal shit, and he wasn't up to sharing it with other. The ghost drew her eyes away from the child shivering and sniveling in the alley and looked at the bitter and irritated business man next to her.

"I thought you were already aware that there is nothing we can do, Glen? This is all in the past. And it's already happened once before." Glen grumbled something under his breath. The ghost sighed, but she was smiling when Glen glanced her way again. "It will be fine, Glen. It's going to fix itself the same way it did before. Don't you remember what took place the first time this happened?"

Glen was ready to yell at the apparition with all the frustration he had built up since earlier that day in the boardroom, when another voice made him lose steam.

_"No, Todd. I'm positive that I heard something coming from over here."_

_"You know sometimes I think you're mental, Kamron."_

Glen spun around and for a brief moment he saw the man's face, his eyes trained on it right up until he literally walked through him. Glen felt nothing as the person's body passed through his. He turned completely around and watched as one of his oldest memories play out in front of him. It was strange to be watching it from a completely different perspective.

The nearly forty year old, with his blonde hair in a ponytail that fell down his back and was too long for a man his age, approached the alley and looked down it, initially missing the child curled up near the entrance. The man was followed closely by an even bigger man with his own immense amount of long black hair. The two of them were wearing long beige coats—different in styles—but wore very similar dark green scarves. They looked like they had just come from work or the like. They were both wearing suits under the trench coats, not that different from what Glen himself was wearing.

_"See, Kamron?"_ the big one said stopping besides Glen to catch his breath. _"I told you, you're losing your mind."_ He straightened, and at his full height, his shoulders were at level with Glens head. Where most memories from childhood usually exaggerated things out of proportion, Glen was not surprised that Todd was an exception to the rule. The man from his memories still appeared huge to him now.

_"But…but I was sure I heard something,"_ Kamron muttered to himself. He went to turn back when his eyes finally found the child shaking like a leaf right under his nose. As Glen watched the man's back, he remembered the way Kamron's face looked when he first met his eyes. Surprised, almost horror struck at the sight of him and his condition, but then whatever it had been melted away and turned into the warmest smile Glen had ever seen. _"There you are…"_ he said kneeling down in front of child.

_"What?!_" Todd exclaimed as he hurried over to his friend's side and knelt beside him. _"There's someone really here?"_

Glen took several cautious steps closer so he could see better. He was unable to remove his eyes from the scene. The ghost watched Glen and moved a couple paces back to allow him closer. She watched while a very interested smile played across her face.

Kamron extended a hand out to the child and even though the child pulled away, Kamron reached the extra distance and felt the child's forehead and then his hand quickly moved to his cheek. _"God, he's freezing," _he muttered. He reached out the other hand and lifted the child to his feet. _"His clothes are sopping wet too."_

_"Wonder where his folks are?"_ Todd said, standing up and looking around like he expected someone to shout out that they had suddenly misplaced a child.

_"Yeah,"_ Kamron said softly. The child stood there awkwardly, staring at his feet not sure what to do; a little too scared to move. Kamron craned his neck until he caught the boy's eyes and the child lifted his head to look at him. _"Hey,"_ Kamron smiled again. _"Are you okay?"_

The child stared at him rather speechlessly. Kamron's smile only widened. _"It's okay if you don't want to say anything."_

_"Kamron, we need to take him to the police station or something,"_ Todd said still standing at his friend's side.

_"Yeah, I guess,"_ Kamron said rather distractedly. His half lidded eyes were studying the child. The child stared back at him, holding his gaze when their eyes met for the second time. _"You have very intelligent violet eyes,"_ Kamron noted to himself, only loud enough that he, the child and, unintentionally, Glen could hear.

Though Kamron was still smiling at the child, Glen, standing off to the side and who had known Kamron for years, could tell that something was troubling him. Kamron dragged his eyes away from the child and looked over his shoulder at his friend. _"He…he's, uh, freezing, Todd. Maybe—maybe we should get him something—I don't know—dry to wear first or, uh…"_

Todd turned back at Kamron and could see that the man was struggling with something on his mind. Kamron looked at the child and reached out to tug lightly at the end of his wet jacket. Water was still dripping off it.

Todd sighed. He knew, as well as Glen did, how Kamron could get about things. _"That's fine, I guess. Just get him out of that Jacket first. It looks like it doing more bad than good leaving him in it."_

Kamron nodded and looked the child in the eyes again. _"Can I have your jacket? We're going to get you into something warmer real soon, okay? I'll even let you wear my scarf until we get to the store."_

The child nodded and with shivering hands started to unzipp the front of his coat. He took it off and handed it to Kamron. Kamron took off his scarf like he said and wrapped it snuggly around the child's neck. The scarf was really warm and the child nuzzled into it without thinking. Kamron smiled. He glanced at the small jacket in his hands for only a second when something caught his eye. He stood up and called Todd over to look at it. Todd took the jacket and on the inside under the tag Glen knew was the address to the orphanage.

_"You don't think…?" _Todd asked. Kamron looked back down at the child and knelt down in front of him so he was at eye level again.

_"Did you come from a place called River Side?" _Kamron asked calmly. The child thought about it for a moment before he started biting at his lower lip. Glen knew he'd been debating whether to tell the truth or not. He didn't want to go back there.

The child finally nodded. Kamron mirrored the slow nodded thoughtfully. _"How did you get here then?"_

The child looked away, but finally got himself to open his mouth. _"I walked here."_

_"All by yourself?"_ Kamron asked curiously.

The child nodded. _"I don't want to be there anymore,"_ he said obstinately.

Kamron looked the child in the eyes again and seemed to come to a final decision. _"Well I guess that's all there is to it,"_ Kamron smiled at the child.

_"Kamron, you're not planning to do what I think you are,"_ Todd admonished.

Kamron's smile only spread further and he ignored his friend. _"Hey, my name is Kamron Sanders,"_ He introduced himself._ "And this giant scary guy is Todd. He's an old friend of mine and he's not as mean as he looks, I swear—"_

_"Hey!"_ Todd retorted.

Kamron merely chuckled. He looked the child in the eyes. "_What's your name?"_

The child held his tongue for a bit, still holding to the scarf around his neck. Finally, _"It's Kory," _he said quietly.

_"Well, Kory, do you mind if I carry you. I think we would get there faster."_

_"Get where?"_ Kory said skeptically.

_"Well the sooner we get everything taken care of, the faster I can take you home,"_ Kamron said still wearing the smile.

_"Oh God, Kamron, no. You can't be serious,"_ Todd said rubbing his forehead. But even though his tone was stern, it was easy to see he had already conceded.

Kory looked at Kamron, not sure he really understood, but when Kamron held out his arms, Kory consciously walked up to Kamron and let him lift him up. Todd looked down at Kamron holding the child securely in his arms and sighed.

_"I would never picture you the fatherly type,"_ he said looking at the man he would normally associate with words like goofball, irresponsible, reckless, and immature.

_"How rude," _Kamron said with a disappointed frown almost like he could read his friend's mind.

Glen and the ghost followed the two men and the child all the way back to the orphanage. When they got there and found out that the people working hadn't even noticed Kory was missing, Kamron got unhinged. He handed Kory to Todd and in an uncharacteristically dark tone demanded to speak to the one in charge. Todd found a bench in the hall and sat down placing Kory next to him.

After sitting there quietly for a bit, able to barely hear what Kamron was yelling at whatever poor soul was in charge, Kory looked up at the towering person next to him.

_"Um…" _

Todd looked down at him.

_"Why's he so angry?"_ Kory asked curiously.

Todd looked the child over for a moment. Then he gave him a somewhat soft smile. _"He's upset about the staff's negligence."_

_"Neg... Neg-la-what?"_ Kory asked with innocent frustration at not knowing how to pronounce the word.

Glen snorted and shook his head. '_Leave it to Todd to use big words in front of a three year old._'

Todd sighed. _"It means he's upset they didn't know you were gone. They weren't looking for you yet."_

Kory looked down at his lap as he thought about it. _"Nobody ever comes looking for me," _he said softly. _"Not even during hide and seek."_

Todd felt a little pang in his heart and kindly chuckled at that last bit. He reached out and ruffled Kory's damp hair that had dried some by now. _"You don't have to worry about that anymore, kid. I mean, Kamron was looking for you even before he knew who you were."_

Glen looked over at the ghost incredulously. She was acting like she _wasn't_ listening intently, looking at the few framed pictures on the walls. She glanced back at him and smiled with mock innocence. "I said it was hard, sweetie. Not impossible."

She looked away, and Glen didn't have the energy to bother with her as Kamron came out of the supervisor's office looking like his feathers had been thoroughly ruffled. Todd and Kory looked up at him curiously. Kamron turned to them and smiled at them victoriously. "_Kory is coming home with me,"_ he said with a satisfied grin. _"They said they just needed to run a quick background check on me. That shouldn't take too long I think. I haven't done much."_

Todd scoffed. _"Heh, haven't done much my ass."_

_"Hey, watch your mouth with him. I don't want him swearing." _Kamron said, trying to sound parental. The ghost on the other side of the room snickered.

"What?" Glen asked throwing her a glare.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just funny that he was worried about _your_ innocence."

Glen rolled his eyes and turned back to the men and the child. Kamron had asked Kory if he had anyone that he wanted to say good bye to. Kory shook his head and Kamron frowned for a moment before a smile reappeared on his face again.

_"Kory, I was thinking. Since you're going to be changing your last name, what about changing your first name as well? That way it will really feel like a fresh start." _

Kory looked up at Kamron. _"You're really taking me home with you?... Forever?"_

Kamron smiled. _"Yep. Forever."_ Glen smiled too. It was a small smile, but for a moment he could forget that the ghost was there and just think about this one moment when everything in his life seemed to be brighter.

Kory appeared stunned by the concept that he was leaving. He would leave for real, and he was going to live with the man standing in front of him. He kind of liked this man too. He looked a little spacey, but he was really nice. And when he had held him on the way back, it had made Kory really warm and happy.

Todd looked back at Kamron. _"What were you thinking of changing his name to?"_

Kamron looked thoughtful for a moment. _"Well, I was thinking something more natural. I personally like the sound a Glen. What do you think?" _

Todd looked away shaking his head.

_"What? What's wrong with it?" _Kamron asked with a subtle hurt look on his face, almost like a pout.

_"That's an old man's name, Kamron." _

_"Oh?"_ Kamron thought for a moment. _"Well, it could recirculate and become hip again."_

_"For the love of God, please stop trying to use kid words. It makes you sound ridiculous," _Todd scoffed, sounding like an old man himself.

_"What?" _ Kamron said still looking confused.

_"I like it,"_ Kory said gently.

_"Like what?" _Kamron asked smiling at him.

_"The name. I like Glen."_

The ghost chuckled again and Glen cast her a dirty look. She just smiled back at him and walked over to his side. "Hmm. You really weren't so bad as a kid," she said tapping her manicured nails against her chin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Glen asked incredulously.

The ghost smirked. "Nothing, hun… Now I think it's time we moved on."

Glen opened his mouth to protest—he had just a started to like where they were—but the ghost cut him off before he could even start. "We've already seen what we came here to. Now it's on to the next memory." She turned away, and Glen followed her—trying to stop her from leaving.

* * *

As his back turned away from them, the scene changed. Glen felt as if the floor was suddenly ripped out from under his feet again. The drafty hallway of the orphanage was gone and the temperature around him rose like he was standing next to a furnace. The grey walls were replaced with mahogany bookshelves full of old volumes with thick bindings. The tile floor that had squeaked with the sound of people's wet shoes was now thick carpeting. When Glen's body came to a halt, he spun around to find that the bench and his younger self were gone. So were Todd and Kamron. Instead there was a larger modern style desk with a hulky computer monitor sitting on it. Behind the desk there were wide windows with the curtains drawn back, and beyond the panes of glass, the world was buried in snow.

Glen looked around the room. The ghost was lounging in one of the large chairs near the door, inspecting her nails and looking completely at home. The room looked like it always had, ever since his childhood. It was Kamron's home study. Glen had spent a lot of time in here as a kid. He walked over to one of the wall-lining-bookcases. Along the lower rows the book looked different from the rest. Glen slowly rang his fingers over the spines of things like Dr. Suess, The Critters, Harry potter…

Most of the other volumes of the shelves were there as decoration. Put there in order to make the room look more educated. All designed by Glen's real aunt, when her brother had hired her to remodel the room. As he thought of the old hag, he glanced over at the ghost who was watching him silently from the chair. She was smiling and waved like she'd been expecting him to look her way. He turned back to the shelves with no intention of acknowledging her further.

Kamron had taken up collecting popular children's books not long after Glen had moved in with him. He'd actually bought a lot of new things after he'd adopted him. They weren't really things that Glen got attached to, but Kamron really liked to dote on him. He was a strange father to say the least. He hovered like a mother-hen sometimes and others, he said bizarre things that didn't make any sense. The advice he gave felt, more often than not, cryptic and it was harder to find the meaning behind the lesson then it was to solve the actual problem he'd needed help with. Kamron could be an airhead at times, doing things as silly as leaving his glasses on his forehead, forgetting, and then spending hours trashing his office looking for them. Glen found himself taking care of Kamron just as much as Kamron took care of him.

A rapping on the office door pulled Glen away from his thoughts. The door was pushed open a crack and Glen felt his chest flinch was he heard his own voice, mind you still younger, call into the room. He was even more startled when he heard Kamron's voice coming from behind the desk, that ridiculous computer monitor completely obscuring the man's head from view.

The door was pushed open the rest of the way and Glen watched the younger version of himself walk into the room. There had been a few years lost between the first memory and this. The younger Glen looked like he was eight or nine years old. He was taller, wearing baggy jeans that were wet around the legs, probably from walking in the snow from the bus stop to the front door.

Kamron's head peeked out from behind the computer and he smiled warmly at the kid. _"So how was school today?"_ he asked casually.

The kid shrugged. He didn't look like he cared either way. _"It was school, nothing new."_

Kamron still smiled and nodded like he'd just received good news. _"Well today was the last day of school for the year, right? What did you do?"_

The younger Glen sighed exaggeratedly and Kamron chuckled at the action. Back near the door the ghost snickered as well, but Glen ignored her. His eyes and ears only had enough allowance to pay attention to the exchange between his younger self and his father.

_"They had this really long assembly that lasted all day. My butt still hurts from sitting on the floor for so long. It was really boring."_

_"I see. That sounds terrible,"_ Kamron said as he moved his chair out from behind the computer and leaned back so he could watch.

_"It was really dumb,"_ the younger Glen summed up. _"And then the teacher made us do another five minute paper drill before we got out."_

_"Oh really?"_ Kamron nodded. _"And what was this five minute paper about?"_

The younger Glen cocked his head to the side. _"Why you want to know?"_

_"Just curious," _Kamron said still wearing a smile.

The kid shrugged again and said. _"We answered the prompt: 'What do you want to be when you grow up'."_

Kamron leaned forward in his chair and stood up. He was wearing a large white knitted sweater, khakis and tan slippers. Walking around his desk, he asked, _"And what did you write?"_

Glen's smiled as he remembered the answer before it left the kid's lips. _"I said I wanted to be a pilot. I want to fly your plans."_

_"A pilot, hmm? That sounds rather exciting." _ Kamron smirked as he came around and sat on the edge of his desk.

_"Yeah, that's what I thought,"_ the kid said, smiling up at Kamron. _"Oh, and I also wrote that if I couldn't be a pilot, I wanted to work at your company instead."_

_"Really?"_ Kamron said with an interested look in his eyes. _"You want to work for my company?"_

_"Is there something wrong with that?"_ younger Glen asked, worried he'd made a mistake.

_"No, no, Glen. I'm actually honored."_

_"Really?" _Glen said a smile creeping back onto his face.

_"Really," _Kamron smirked. He sat there for a moment, his face turning thoughtful. He then got up and walked over to one side of the room. Bending down, he opened one of the cabinets under the bookcase and pulled out a binder. He walked behind his desk and put the binder down. Glen watched the younger version of himself stand there waiting, the kid toeing at the carpet through his socks. Kamron, though slightly spacy, was the type of person that always seemed to have a purpose for what he was doing. So even as a child, Glen knew that whatever Kamron was doing, had something to do with what they were talking about.

_"Glen?" _Both pairs of violet eyes looked up at the man. He'd flipped through the glossy pages of sheet protectors, leaning over them. _"Do you know why my company paints the planes orange?"_

The younger Glen thought over it for a while, then looked up and said _"Isn't it because orange is a flashy color and when people see them, it catches their attention and makes them remember them?"_

Kamron paused what he was doing and looked up at Glen with a rather bewildered look. _"Hmm, that's, uh, a good answer. Huh, I never thought of it that way, but it is a good marketing strategy, isn't it?… I guess I'm smarter than I originally thought,"_ he said smiling to himself. He turned back to the younger Glen still wearing that smile. _"That's a brilliant observation Glen, but that wasn't the original reason I decided on that color."_

_"What do you mean?_"

_"Well," _Kamron sighed, taking a moment to quickly think over his response. _"I originally thought that when people looked up in the sky and saw the orange against the blue, the two would complement each other." _The kid looked at Kamron with a perplexed expression, and Kamron tried to clarify. _"Orange and blue are opposites, right?"_

The younger Glen nodded.

_"They are also called complimentary colors. Because they are opposites they can make the other's good points shine. The orange planes make the blue sky around them seem wider and more glorious,"_ Kamron paused wondering if he had lost his son. _"Do you understand?"_

_"So you made the planes orange to teach people a lesson?" _he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kamron laughed. _"Yeah, something like that. I believe that people can shine like that too."_ Kamron pulled something out of one of the plastic sheets in the binder and put it onto the desk before flipping the binder shut. _"They just need to find their opposites."_

_"Is that why you're dating that jerk, Keighan? Coz he's nothing like you."_

Kamron froze for a second. He looked like he hadn't expected that reaction either. But his lip started to tremor and he could not keep himself from laughing. He took a moment to catch his breath and compose himself. _"That might be one of the reasons why, yes, Glen,"_ he nodded. _"You know Glen, someday I hope you can find your opposite." _He reached out and ruffled the younger Glen's blond hair.

_"I don't want to if he's going to be something like Keighan. He's a weirdo."_

_"Now, Glen. You shouldn't…"_ Kamron's voice began to fade into the background and the world started moving again.

* * *

**A/N:**

Oh my gosh! Sorry readers! This chapter took so long to write, but there's a good reason, I swear. I was actually intending to write chapters two and (now) three as one chapter, but then chapter two would be twice as long as chapter one and all the other chapters may seem shorter as a result. I was also planning to had (now) chapter four up by Christmas day, but holiday life got the better of me and I've been doing everything except writing. Argh!

Anyway. I hope you're all still reading this story and if you are wondering where the romance is, it starts in the next chapter. Heh... I really love writing this story because of all the ways it ties back to Minekura's original works. It makes me feel so smart for coming up with all of it. I also love this story/this chapter because I got to write using one of my favorite characters from Saiyuki that I normally never get to use. Yay!

(BTW: I don't own Saiyuki or The Christmas Carol. This is a work of fiction and I don't plan on getting any profit from this)

So, here's today's hint for the contest (if anyone is still doing it since I'm not getting these up fast enough. I moved the cut off date because I fail so much. Check chapter one for the update). Hint: Todd's from Burial.


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